


Don't Wake Up

by loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce



Series: KHR Poetry [4]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: BAMF Sasagawa Kyouko, Birthday Gift Fic, Dying Will Flame bonds, F/M, First Person, I Loathe writing in first person but it worked so, Murder Babe Kyouko, Pining, Please read the fic that inspired this, Plot Twist, Plotting Murder, Poetic Language, Poetry, bamf woman, bed sharing, eh? eh?, miracles could happen if you tried this fic out, miracles happen I guess, otherwise it will make close to zero sense, please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 01:46:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce/pseuds/loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce
Summary: Alternate PoV to OnceABlueMoon's Rose Petals Beneath the Sheets.“I'm so sorry about this!” you squeak,and I smile(soft, delicate rose petals descending,you imagine them caressing your cheek)and shake my head.“We'll be fine,” I reply.I have spent so long staring at you,longing for this night and anticipating your reactions in my imagination,that I know each detail of your features.





	Don't Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnceABlueMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceABlueMoon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rose Petals Between the Sheets (One Bed Only, Indeed)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13254717) by [OnceABlueMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceABlueMoon/pseuds/OnceABlueMoon). 



you

only see what you want to.

that's fine.

that's what I want you to see,

too.

we share shivers in the cold night air,

and I smile as always,

pretending I don't want to gut you.

how little you know.

-._.-

“I'm so sorry about this!” you squeak,

and I smile

(soft, delicate rose petals descending,

you imagine them caressing your cheek)

and shake my head.

“We'll be fine,” I reply.

I have spent so long staring at you,

longing for this night and anticipating your reactions in my imagination,

that I know each detail of your features.

your cheeks are dusted the color of four-days-old rose petals

and you look anywhere but me,

as if your gaze has thorns and you can't bear to prick me with them

instead of it being the other way around.

your lips press together, trying to

halt some of your obvious anxiety.

and your eyes, your eyes.

they are not a window to your soul - they are a

well, a lake, a

sky.

open to every last person who seeks refuge.

(it's a pity you chose to steal and shelter

him.

we could have been… great.

it will cost you dearly.

I wonder if it was worth it.)

although they aren't gazing at me now, I know

that your eyes are wide, fearful,

kind.

(they are always kind.)

they are imagining something much different from my mindset.

I'm very glad you have this

_infatuation_

with me, it makes everything

so much easier.

“Dibs on the shower,” I say, waving at and

turning away from

your nervous, naive figure.

you're sweating.

you're so precious.

be a good boy and wait until I come back.

wait for me to slice open your neck

to reclaim my Sun.

-._.-

I stare at the mirror in the bathroom, letting

the water run in the shower.

I wet my hair.

you haunt my every thought.

and I hate you because

those thoughts should have gone to my brother, my

Sun.

_mine._

our broken glass bond whispers against my skin,

tracing,

stabbing,

tearing,

barely pressing.

what a mess we've made of things,

this trio:

the Sun, you, and me.

the two Skies.

the ghost of what used to be,

the string that used to connect and resonate with my soul,

is gone. shredded.

I dream of seeing your Guardians shredded like you made me.

you tore away any chance of him regaining childhood memories,

dusting them off and holding them to the light.

I hate you because

he will never recreate that bond with me,

but your Sky has strengthened his Sun enough that

he can remember everything since five years ago,

no need for a dusting or

snow globe.

(why couldn't it be me)

(why am I not strong enough)

-._.

you're still nervous.

you're still precious.

your eyes are wide and uncertain, even staring at my eyes “moving” “in sleep”,

and I have to wonder.

how certain were you when you wrenched my Sun from my Sky?

it doesn't matter. you must pay.

-._.-

I lean down to

caress both

your cheek and my blade.

don't wake up.

I don't want to see the kindness in your eyes

(what we could have been without this).

you wake up,

idiot Sky.

of course you do.

your eyelashes flutter,

as innocent as you thought mine to be a while ago.

well, here we go. here's

my revenge.

bleed.

panic twists your childish features,

confusion creeps across your face like a quick beetle’s path.

_oh, Tsuna-kun, if only you hadn't taken my Sun, we could've had_

_something beautiful._

I brush my fingertips across your lips,

once,

a small ghost.

I watch as broken glass realization rips across that expanse of sky in your eyes,

and I smile,

just as light and innocent as ever,

just for old time’s sake. 

you will never get that gift again.

“Kyoko, what are you talking about?”

…

you don't know.

the moon shines softly through the window,

curtains open,

and the rose petals on the mattress lift their edges to a phantom breeze.

it doesn't matter.

you should have thought twice.

“I think you understand.”

although I took Bianchi, that

didn't have quite the effect I'd been hoping for. you

care for her much less than I thought you would, for the Sky

of her brother, your best friend.

I see your face in my mind's eye,

and feel the emptiness associated, the

gaping hole and raw jagged wounds.

when I slit your throat, it's

beautiful.

enchanting.

enrapturing.

I drink it all in,

the flower of blood,

your shocked glassy eyes,

and I can't get enough.

I lean forward and whisper,

_you made your bed, now lie in it_

to some portion of your spirit hovering around your body after death,

to the moonlight,

to my deep-rooted desire for revenge.

you foolish, greedy Sky.

too kind and unconditionally accepting for your own good.

-._.-

you were never properly inducted into the mafia.

Flame King though you may have been,

Flame power does not make survival

(and yet I can see how your many adventures might have unwittingly planted that notion in your head.)

you refused to lose yourself to paranoia, to reservation

you refused to compromise on the smallest part of your Sky.

your greatest trait was your downfall tonight.

-._.-

and yet I can't stop feeling the broken glass bond against my throat,

glass rose petals cutting into my skin.

this was supposed to make it better,

I plead to the moon as I slip out of the room,

dagger

shining

and dripping.

and yet over the whole area a great shelter has been extinguished,

that even I can feel.

I turn away obstinately.

some things just can't be fixed.

maybe

I'm one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that was fun. It was for me to write.


End file.
